


sold my soul to the calling (thousands dead at my feet)

by Pomfry



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hints of tooru/jeje, I mean...this is a servamp fic, Imprisonment, Leaving Home, Mikuni being Mikuni, Murder, Protective Older Brothers, Temporary Character Death, Tooru is so very tired, Waffles, With some alterations to the timeline, because that's my jam, kids are cute, no beta we die like men, they're even more cute when one of them is Misono
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 14:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20448548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pomfry/pseuds/Pomfry
Summary: There’s a necklace in Mikuni’s pocket. A simple golden chain with a small emerald, but it’senough;it’s a contract item that Mikuni can give.





	sold my soul to the calling (thousands dead at my feet)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the servamp discord collab event! I'll post the link to the art at the end.

Mikuni knows that his mother isn't the most stable person around. It's due to her Servamp, he's been told time and again, but Mikuni isn't convinced. He'd noticed how she got more angry and would cry at the drop of a hat two months before Misono arrived, swaddled in blankets and sleeping peacefully. Mikuni isn't dumb and he sees a lot more than what his parents want him to.

Still, never in a million years would he imagine she would send Doubt Doubt after Misono. After _ Mikuni's little brother. _

It's impossible to him. Misono is his whole world and he couldn’t see why anyone would want to harm him, that little boy with an innocent smile. But now he knows—he was naive in thinking that no one would. He just never thought the attack would come from the _ inside. _

But Misono is bleeding out at his feet as his mother laughs into her bloodstained hands, a knife at her feet, and all Mikuni can feel is _ anger _ as he picks up the blade and slices his mother's throat, making sure her death is painful and _ slow, _ before turning to the Servamp standing behind his mother’s dying form, and a flash of inspiration hits him.

He grabs Doubt Doubt's wrist, using the knife his mother used to_ hurt Misono, hurt his brother, his light, his reason for living, _to cut it. Misono is gasping for air and it sounds wet, sounds desperate, and he's reaching for Mikuni, saying, "It hurts, it hurts—"

Blood drips from Doubt Doubt's wrist and Mikuni forces it into Misono's mouth. It's a twisted parody of what All Of Love does for the children he brings home, but Mikuni doesn't care. All he can think of is Misono dying here at the feet of the woman he called mother with Mikuni unable to save him, and he can't think of anything else.

Mikuni doesn't know how much blood a subclass needs. He doesn't care. He'll drain Doubt Doubt dry if it means Misono will live.

More blood, he thinks, and cuts Doubt Doubt again. It's not a shallow cut, goes deep enough that it scrapes against bone, and he wonders if it hurts him, wonders if he can feel the blood loss, but he gives it all to Misono even if he does, because Misono is more important, will forever be more important than a vampire. And Misono takes it, swallows it, not having time to taste it before Mikuni forces more past his lips.

Misono isn't allowed to die. Mikuni won't let him.

Eventually, after who knows how long, Doubt Doubt pulls his arm away, the cuts healing instantly. Mikuni spins on his heel, knife still in hand, but Doubt Doubt shakes his head.

"He has been given enough," he says. "Too much and he won't know how to handle the power. Too much and he'll explode."

Mikuni drops the knife. He could have killed Misono. Fuck. _ Fuck. _

He grabs his hair, pulling at it for a moment before falling his knees and setting Misono's head on his lap. His baby brother looks peaceful like this, but the coldness of his skin and the blood on his lips shatters the illusion of him sleeping before it's even formed.

"Misono," he says softly, brushing his brother's hair away from his face. "Big brother is here. Everything will be okay."

His mother has long since fallen silent, and he thinks she's dead. He doesn't feel anything about that. He just feels numb, feels drained.

Misono will live. He will wake up. He won't be able to go out into sunlight but he will live, and Mikuni is fiercely, overwhelmingly glad for it.

He leans down until his forehead is touching Misono's, and prays for the first time in years as his father breaks the door down with All Of Love at his side.

“Mikuni,” Father murmurs at the sight of the blood-covered room, at the sight of his eldest cradling his brother to his chest. At the sight of his wife dead, head turned towards the door and eyes open.

Mikuni doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t dare. If he did, he might very well attack him, too, and then where would they be. Two murders in one day, and his hands are already stained red but he doesn’t really want to add another kill onto his ledger.

It’s scary, to him; the fact that he just killed his mother and it doesn’t bother him, the fact that he is even thinking of killing his father and feels nothing. But then, it really isn’t. He’s known for a while now that there’s something subtly off in his brain, something that isn’t quite right. He thinks that he isn’t as good as he should be, that Misono got all the good parts and he didn’t.

Misono doesn’t move, still. But that’s—that’s normal, from what Mikuni knows. He doesn’t know the effects of forcing that much blood down a person’s throat but he knows that it takes an adjustment period for the person’s body to accept the blood. The changes to their biology.

“Mikuni,” Father says again, louder and more assertive than Mikuni has ever heard him. Mikuni finally lifts his gaze from Misono’s closed eyes and stares at his father, the man who may have had a hand in raising him but is not the man Mikuni accepts as his father. His eyes are frigid, same as his heart, as his soul, and Father’s face flushes red. “What did you do.”

It wasn’t a question, as much as Mikuni wishes it was. It’s a demand instead, and Mikuni has that familiar rage inside him, that familiar thought of _ I hate you, I hate you, I hate you _ that he had only a few years previous.

All Of Love doesn’t move from where he’s standing in the doorway, wine-red eyes wide and hand raised to his mouth. Mikuni bares his teeth at the both of them as his father walks forward.

“Mikuni, what did you do.”

“I saved Misono’s life,” Mikuni finally answers, voice tight and cruel in the silence. “I saved his life and I took Mother’s. You know damn well what I did.”

Mikuni could leave. He could. He’s been thinking about it for a while now. He has his bags packed and money saved in a private account and he’s been keeping his eyes on a little house. He’s been thinking and contemplating and the only thing stopping him from doing it was Misono. But now Misono is hurt, is nearly dead, and he doesn’t feel a thing anymore.

Doubt Doubt takes a step in front of them, the swish of his clothes the only indication that he moved. Father stumbles back, face pale before he rallies himself, barking, “Get out of my way. They are my sons.”

_ Not anymore, _ Mikuni thinks. _ Misono stopped being your son when you let your wife try to kill him. I stopped being your son when I discovered you had an affair. _

_ You don’t have any sons. _

“The boy is my subclass,” Doubt Doubt says, quiet but firm in a way that nobody ever really is when they talk to someone with the Alicein name. “You will not touch him while he is vulnerable.”

“I would never hurt Misono!” Father—Mikado, his name is Mikado, he’s not _ Father— _snarls back, immediately on the defensive. “Get out of my way!”

Doubt Doubt doesn’t move a muscle. He’s still and silent and as good of a shield that Mikuni will ever get.

And an idea sparks at that image. Doubt Doubt is strong. Stronger than All Of Love. The third in line, the third strongest in the seven Servamps. He’s strong and Mikuni needs that strength, if he’s going to do what he wants to do.

There’s a necklace in Mikuni’s pocket. A simple golden chain with a small emerald, but it’s _ enough; _ it’s a contract item that Mikuni can give.

He reaches up and grasps Doubt Doubt’s sleeve, necklace held in his fist. Doubt Doubt shifts, not enough to be noticed by Mikado but enough for Mikuni, who is standing behind him and at his feet, low enough to see the way his foot moves two centimeters.

A smile curls at Mikuni’s lips, small and vicious and entirely him as he stands. Misono is still limp, head resting on Mikuni’s shoulder, and it just makes the next thing Mikuni does that much easier.

“Doubt Doubt of Envy,” he says clearly, and his voice doesn’t even shake as he looks Mikado right in the eyes, “do you accept my contract?”

Doubt Doubt inclines his head, holding out a hand. Mikuni drops the necklace in his palm, watching as he slips it over his wrist. “I do,” Doubt Doubt agrees, and Mikuni’s heart is in his throat, a _ thump-thump _ in his ears that sound like a war drum when he takes a breath, the weight of Misono in his arms. He slits his thumb, a bead of red appearing, and Doubt Doubt leans forward to take the single drop.

The room smells of death. His father sickens him. Mikuni is so _ tired. _

“Jeje,” he says. “Your name is Jeje.”

A circle of light surrounds them, chains connecting Mikuni and Doubt Doubt for forever and a day until Mikuni’s heart stops beating, and Mikado won’t stop _ staring. _

Mikuni laughs right in his face, the sound of it like it was pulled from his throat through broken glass, and he doesn’t look at Doubt Doubt at all when he orders, “Take us away. Somewhere _ safe.” _

Doubt Doubt obeys. And the last thing Mikuni sees is the way Mikado’s face twisted in anger, in shock, and All Of Love just standing there. Then they’re in the clouds, the night sky glittering above them with the smog underneath them, and Mikuni holds Misono tight, desperately trying not to shake apart as he attempts to breathe through the sudden wave of emotion that washed over him the moment they left the manor.

Doubt Doubt doesn’t say anything. Mikuni thinks that the Servamp is lucky he did; Mikuni would have stabbed him otherwise. But he stays silent all the same, landing on top of buildings only to launch himself off again. Mikuni leans his head back, gazing up at the Servamp, and he has to laugh, a short and bitter thing. He knew he wasn’t cut out for being the Eve of All Of Love. It didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like it should be true. Mikuni is too different from All Of Love; where the Servamp was compassionate, Mikuni was cold. Where the Servamp would be merciful, Mikuni would strike.

It just figures, Mikuni thinks as he presses his hand to his mouth to muffle his cries, that he would get stuck with Envy. He was always such a terrible person that—

That he got stuck with the one Servamp nobody wants. Perhaps that’s why they fit together so well.

Doubt Doubt seems to move more quickly as Mikuni starts to laugh amidst his sobs, his arms around Mikuni curling impossibly tighter. Mikuni doesn’t notice, caught up in the whirlwind of his emotions as the wind steals his tears before they even fall.

—

When Jeje lands, they’re behind an apartment complex in the middle of the city. Jeje sets gently down upon the concrete, careful not to disturb the two boys in his care. Mikuni had fallen asleep fifteen minutes in, and Jeje had deliberately taken a long and winding route that lasts the better part of an hour to get where he was headed. Mikuni is only sixteen, barely out of childhood, and his brother is—was eight. Jeje has never been in the habit of hating his former Eves but he finds himself hating their mother. Mikuni shouldn’t have had to do what he did, but unfortunately it was necessary. Jeje should have stepped in, he knows, when Mikuni picked up the knife and lunged at his mother. He should have, but he didn’t, because there was a child bleeding out at his feet and he wasn’t feeling very merciful.

Misono is curled up on Mikuni’s chest, the teenager himself held in a bridal carry. Jeje straightens and steps forward. This place is safe, just as Mikuni ordered. This place is where C3 can’t touch them, this place is where nobody can harm Misono unless someone fucks up phenomenally.

And, knowing Mikuni, that won’t happen without severe consequences.

He makes his way up the stairs, taking one at a time, bags not even shifting from their place upon his head. The necklace Mikuni offered him is wrapped around his knuckles, digging into his skin, but he doesn’t mind the sting. It’s nothing compared to the way the knife had sunk into his skin, past his muscles, scrapped bone when Mikuni had slit his arm wide open for the sake of his younger brother. Besides, it’s—grounding. The hairbrush Jeje had carried with him had shattered with the end of his former Eve’s life, and he was grateful for it. A hairbrush is so very common and hard to hide. A necklace, though…

A necklace is perfect. A necklace he can _ hide. _

Careful as Jeje is not to awaken his charges, it takes ten minutes to reach the home he wanted to. Apartment D, third floor; there’s light coming from under the door, a man’s humming as water splashes in a sink. Jeje knocks once, twice, then moves back as the door is flung open, a staff swinging for his face.

“Tooru,” Jeje says, “I need to call in that favor.”

Tooru Shirota freezes, eyes traveling down to the children in Jeje’s hold, and he sighs heavily.

“I told you not to get involved with them,” he tells him wearily, turning around and waving Jeje inside.

Jeje follows, looking around. A child’s drawing is on the fridge, dirty dishes on the counter. A radio plays an old song quietly, just enough to be heard if one is really listening for it. Tooru leans against the island, looking like he severely wants a cigarette.

“Put them down on the couch,” Tooru tells him, running a hand through his hair. “Then you can tell me what the hell’s going on.”

Jeje does so, settling his Eve and subclass onto the cushions and placing a blanket over them before turning back to Tooru. The C3 operative is watching the two of them pensively, tiredly, and when Jeje stands in his line of vision, he turns his gaze to him.

“What happened,” Tooru says after a moment, and it’s not a question, said as it is in the same tone of voice Mikado had used earlier. “Doubt Doubt, you and I both know that these boys are the heirs to the Alicein family—the family _ your Eve _ belonged to. And my apartment is far out of the way. So why are you here.”

Jeje holds out his hand, the gold glinting in the dim light of the kitchen as an answer. Tooru eyes it for a minute before groaning, hanging his head.

“I have a new Eve,” Jeje says, because he is a ruthless little shit, and Tooru grumbles a curse at him.

“I can see that,” Tooru snaps. “So what the fuck happened.”

“She attempted to kill Misono. Mikuni stopped her.”

“So why’d you bring the boy.”

“He is now my subclass.”

Tooru says nothing, eyes closed and breathing steadily through his nose before whirling around, opening his cabinets and grabbing a bottle of whiskey from on a very high shelf. He opens it, takes a long drink, then sets it down on the counter, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

“You’ve drove me to drink,” he complains. “Look at what you did.”

“I did nothing,” Jeje replies with a small smile, grateful that his bags hide his face. “It was all them.”

“Alicein are dramatic little shits,” Tooru says, half grumbling. “Seriously, I hate all of them. It’s really too bad they’re all fucking _ geniuses.” _

“I agree,” Jeje says and sits down on a stool. “That’s why I brought them here. I have a contract with Mikuni, offered after he killed his mother. Mikuni took Misono because he is his younger brother, and I complied because he is now my subclass. I took them here because they are vulnerable and need somewhere safe.”

“I have a kid here too y’know,” Tooru says waspishly, but when he looks at the two sleeping soundly on his couch, covered in blood and one with a blotchy face, Jeje can tell he’s softening.

“It is merely until they can get strong enough to be on their own,” Jeje says serenely. “C3 would be an option but you and I both know that Touma would like to take Misono.”

Tooru grimaces. “Yeah. Can’t let that happen, huh.”

They sit in silence, Tooru with his eyes closed and forehead on the cool marble and Jeje with his back straight, looking directly at Tooru and waiting for the answer he knows Tooru will give.

“Can they stay,” Jeje asks, finally, and Tooru sighs as he lifts his head with the expression of a man regretting everything he’s ever done.

“Yes, yes,” he murmurs. “They can stay. I’ll make sure nobody finds them.”

Jeje inclines his head and slips off the stool, turning into a snake and making his way up Misono’s leg, curling around the boy’s arm. He has no need for sleep, but he feels better, with his new Eve right under him and his subclass beside him.

Tooru puts up the whiskey and finishes the dishes without making a sound. He’s drying off his hands with a towel when he passes, and Jeje lifts his head to stare at him.

“I’ll be leaving in a few days,” Tooru tells him lowly. “They want me in India. I’ll make sure everything is prepared by then.”

Jeje sways in place in acknowledgment before laying back down, watching Tooru make his way to his own room as he snaps his fingers. The lights turn off and Tooru closes the door behind him. Jeje stays where he is and doesn’t sleep.

Safe as they may be, it never hurts to have a night watch.

—

Mikuni wakes to a child’s scream. He shoots up, eyes wild and hand searching for a weapon. Misono wakes as well, face screwing up in his soon-to-be tantrum, and when Mikuni finally finds the source of the noise, he freezes. A little boy with brown hair and brown eyes is staring at them both, frozen in place from where he stands in the entrance of the hallway.

Mikuni tenses, arms curling around Misono. The curtains are drawn, thankfully, and there’s no one here but the kid. Maybe Jeje broke into an apartment.

“Who are you?” the boy asks, eyes hardening and looking about as threatening as a wet kitten. “Why are you here?”

Mikuni smiles at him the way he smiles at Misono when his little brother is about to freak out, and says, “I’m Mikuni. This is my little brother Misono.”

“I’m Mahiru,” the boy says with a firm nod.

Mikuni laughs softly. “That’s funny—we all have names that begin with an M.”

Mahiru’s face lights up. “Yeah! That’s true! Wait, don’t distract me. Why are you here? Did you break in? Are you burglars?”

Mikuni raises one of his shoulders in a helpless shrug, rubbing Misono’s back soothingly as his brother rubs at his eyes. “I’m not sure myself.”

“I can explain,” comes a cheerful voice. A man comes up from behind Mahiru, tying his hair back into a low ponytail. Mikuni narrows his eyes in a glare because he _ knows _ this man. He used to come to the manor to discuss things with Grandfather, and later Mother.

“Tooru,” Mikuni says, positively icy, and Tooru blinks at him in surprise.

“Hey!” he says, reaching down to pick up Mahiru. “Didn’t expect you to recognize me.”

“Uncle Tooru, you know these people?” Mahiru asks, confusion evident. Misono squirms in his grasp and Mikuni lets him go, watching him like a hawk as he slips down the couch.

“I don’t know him,” Misono says, full of childish authority that being an Alicein gives a person, “but Mikuni does. Mikuni knows _ everything.” _

Mahiru seems to take that in before he accepts it. “Okay,” he says, struggling in his uncle’s grasp as well, making Tooru set him down. “Wanna go play?”

“Yes!” Misono shouts with a grin, and Mikuni glances at the snake curled up on the coffee table without a word. Doubt Doubt seems to understand it anyway, slithering off in the boys’ wake and leaving Mikuni and Tooru alone.

“What are we doing here,” Mikuni demands. “How is being here _ safe.” _

Tooru shrugs. “You may find this surprising, but Doubt Doubt and I go way back. His Eve used to be one of my coworkers, until they got killed. But I owed him a favor for saving my life in a rather spectacular fashion, so…”

“So he took us here,” Mikuni finishes, and sighs, tugging on his bangs. “Fuck.”

“If it’s any consolation, C3 doesn’t even know where you are.” Tooru shrugs. “I got called at, like, four in the morning with my boss frantic about you and Doubt Doubt disappearing. He wanted me to come in but I have a kid now.”

Mikuni closes his eyes, pursing his lips. “Great. Wonderful. Does anyone know where we are and am I in trouble for murder.”

“Not to my knowledge. The government knows when to hand things over to C3 and anything to do with your family automatically falls under our jurisdiction. Considering that your mother was insane and you’re now the Eve of a Servamp, I doubt you’ll get arrested. More like a slap on the wrist, if they find you soon. If not, you’ll get off scot free.”

“Sounds corrupt,” Mikuni manages past the lump of utter _ relief _ in his throat.

Tooru shrugs again, rather weakly as he raises his hands. “Do you even know how understaffed we are? How many subclasses are causing chaos all over the world and need to be stopped? We just don’t have the manpower or time to go after you. And we can’t recruit all willy-nilly either, a person has to have the capacity to even use magic, otherwise we’re sending them to their deaths. So, honestly, if you stay here for a couple of months, you’re good.”

“Just like that?” Mikuni asks faintly. He was raised to believe to _ not _ piss off C3 and here is a high ranking operative telling him he can get away with _ murder _ because of how _ understaffed they are. _

But, he thinks, gathering himself within about ten seconds, this works in his favor. If they just stay out of sight and out of mind then Misono and him will be safe.

He can’t return to the manor. He doesn’t even _ want _ to, at this point. That place hasn’t even been home since he was nine years old and found out his father had an affair. That place hasn’t been home since his mother formed a contract with Doubt Doubt of Envy. His home, in his eyes, is Misono. Is his little brother, that baby that arrived at the manor and wouldn’t stop crying until Mikuni held him.

The manor was a place to stay. That’s it. His home—that’s Misono.

He can work with this.

“So you don’t mind us staying,” Mikuni ventures after a few minutes had passed. Tooru nods his head.

“Nope,” he says easily, without a moment of hesitation as he makes his way to the kitchen. “You’re a built-in babysitter with experience with kids. No way am I turning that down.” He pauses in pulling out a pan. “...Besides, I don't think anyone willing to go the lengths you did for family can be that bad of a person.”

_ You don’t know me at all, _ Mikuni wants to say. _ You have no idea what’s going on in my head. You don’t know what I’m capable of. _

Mikuni’s mind is a dark place on the best of days; even he doesn’t know how far down he’ll go if given the right circumstance, if given the right motivation. He’s killed his mother after all.

He says none of this, of course. He would be would have to be on the brink of death to even mention it, and maybe not even then.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Tooru asks, startling Mikuni out of his thoughts. “I have ingredients for French toast, traditional, pancakes, waffles…” his voice fades out as he watches Mikuni warily, grip tightening on the pan in his hand.

Mikuni stands and makes his way to where Misono disappeared, almost in a daze. “Misono likes waffles,” he says faintly, the feeling of cheap carpet under his feet making him sick.

Tooru frowns, a staff in his hand as he follows. Mikuni doesn’t pay him any mind, opening the door. Misono and Mahiru are there, chattering happily as they point over a book, and Doubt Doubt raises his head from where he’s resting on a pillow.

Misono looks up, ruby eyes widening, and he scrambles off the bed, almost falling onto the floor if Mikuni hadn’t caught him in a gentle hold.

“Mikuni,” he says, grin bright. “This book is so cool, it has _ dinosaurs _and where they lived and what they did and what they ate and they don’t use baby words!”

Mikuni nods his head shakily, letting his little brother pull him over to the child-sized bed. His brother’s eyes are red. There’s no pulse under his skin. Their mother is dead and they have no home and Mikuni caused all of this, he did, he caused all of this and killed his mom and cut Misono off from his family and now Misono won’t ever grow up and he’s sixteen and can’t support them, can’t provide what Misono needs and—

Misono stops talking. “...Mikuni?” He crawls onto Mikuni’s lap, tapping his cheeks. “You okay?”

Mikuni clears his throat, forcing his breathing to slow down. He knows the symptoms of a panic attack and knows that he was in the beginning stage of one, and he _ refuses _ to have a fucking _ panic attack. _

He is Mikuni Alicein. He does not _ panic. _

“I’m okay,” he says, brushing his brother’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m okay. Tooru was going to make waffles; why don’t you and Mahiru help him?”

Misono scowls. “Only if you’re okay.”

Mikuni laughs, the sound of it more like a quiet wheeze as he puts his brother down onto the floor and nudges him towards Tooru. “I’m fine,” he says. “I just need to talk with Doubt Doubt for a bit.”

Misono glares at him suspiciously, stance set and expression mulishly determined. Tooru walks into the room, scooping the two boys up and marching out. Misono kicks at him and screeches his discontent in such a way that makes Mikuni want to grab his brother from Tooru, but the door closed and muffled the sound before he could.

Doubt Doubt turns into human form, the sudden weight making Mikuni have to lean forward so he doesn’t fall onto his back. The Servamp doesn’t look at him, arms crossed as he stares at the wall.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, Mikuni arranging his thoughts and Doubt Doubt being quiet in his characteristic way. And then, before Mikuni is finished making his mind clear of clutter, Doubt Doubt says, voice low, “My name is Jeje.”

Mikuni blinks at him. “...Jeje?”

Doubt Doubt hisses. _ “You _ named me Jeje; we have a contract, now _ use _ it.”

Mikuni narrows his eyes, rubbing his wrist where the contract indicator lies. “I’ll call you what I want. I’m in charge.”

Doubt Doubt twitches and snarls, “And _ I have a name.” _

“And I can not use it.”

“You—“

“Mikuni!” calls a voice, and Mikuni automatically gets to his feet. “Come on! They have _ strawberries!” _

“Coming,” Mikuni shouts back, then turns to Doubt Doubt. “I’m the one who decides things,” he says icily. “And I’m going to call you whatever I want.”

Doubt Doubt’s visible eye flares, in the exact same way that All of Love’s do when he sees something he hates, and Mikuni grins at him in the same twisted way he always did at his grandfather’s Servamp before leaving.

Doubt Doubt stays behind.

——

Misono knows for a fact that he should be dead. His stomach hurts, and when he looked at it as Mahiru and Tooru made their way to the kitchen, there was a long scar that stretched from his chest to past his belly button. He doesn’t remember a lot from _ Before _, from that time before he woke up on in this apartment. He knows that Mikuni is his brother and that he loves him. He knows that he used to live somewhere else. He knows that Mikuni saved him. He knows that he should be dead.

He doesn’t remember why. Or who. When he tries, he only gets static and figures with blank faces and a terrible, splitting headache. He remembers someone named Father, remembers red eyes. He remembers Mikuni playing with him, Mikuni smiling at him, Mikuni putting him to bed, Mikuni, Mikuni, Mikuni—

He doesn’t remember his last name. He just knows Mikuni is his brother and that he should be dead.

But Mikuni wouldn’t let him go. Mikuni wouldn’t let him leave, wouldn’t let him die. He remembers the taste of copper before everything went dark and he remembers seeing Mikuni.

Mikuni wouldn’t let him die and so he is alive.

Mahiru sprays the waffle iron and waves Misono over. “I can pour it in.” Misono obliges, nearly stumbling as he steps off the stool he was standing on.

“Here,” he says, holding out the bowl. Tooru takes a sip of coffee from where he’s leaning against the counter and watching them with hawk-eyes and Misono tries not to let it bother him; he knows that he’s only making sure they don’t get hurt.

“Thank you!” Mahiru says loudly, clumsily pouring in some batter. He shuts it and lets it cook just as Mikuni steps into the kitchen. Misono turns and darts forward with a shout, crashing into his brother’s legs. Mikuni stumbles back, resting a hand on the back of his head, and Misono breathes in the smell of _ blood-sunshine-home. _

“Hey,” Mikuni murmurs, picking him up. Misono rests his head on Mikuni’s shoulder with a small hum. “How are the waffles coming?”

“Mahiru is cooking them,” Misono tells him, matter-of-fact, and Mikuni smiles.

“That’s nice,” he says, poking Misono’s cheek and chuckling when he bats his hand away with a huff. “How long until we can eat?”

Misono shrugs. “I don’t know. But it should be soon, so why don’t you go get Jeje?”

“I’m already here,” Jeje says from his place in the living room. Misono leans around his brother’s frame and beams.

“Jeje!” he cheers. “It’s time for waffles. You do like waffles, right?”

“I do,” Jeje says, and Misono knows instinctively that he’s smiling. He can feel it, in that weird little tug in his chest that leads to the man.

Tooru laughs into his coffee. “He loves waffles, don’t let him lie. He can eat twenty in a row and still want more.”

Mahiru squeaks as he looks at their small tower of waffles; only five steam from their place on top of each other, and there’s not a lot of batter left. “We won’t have enough!”

Tooru waves the concern away with hardly a glance. “It’s not a problem, he just likes the taste of it. He actually doesn’t eat a lot.”

Misono wrinkles his nose at the lie he can hear. Tooru’s heart had skipped in an irregular way from what his heartbeat has normally been, and Misono doesn’t like it, but Mikuni seems to accept it and Mikuni knows _ everything _ so he thinks that it’s okay.

Come to think of it, he isn’t that hungry. Not for waffles, anyway. It smells amazing and he definitely remembers how it tastes, but he wants something else. Something less solid.

He sniffs and rests his nose against his brother’s neck. There’s a steady thump and a rush under his skin, and he doesn’t mean to, he truly doesn’t, but he opens his mouth and bites. Not a lot, not very hard, but just enough to have blood flow. Mikuni stiffens, arms tightening around him, and Tooru straightens up, something black appearing in his hand, and Jeje is suddenly there, angry and surprised. Misono only takes a few drinks before licking the wounds closed. He wasn’t that hungry anyway. He got plenty of blood last night.

Mikuni rests his hand against his neck, breathing hard and chest heaving. Misono pats his brother’s hand in apology and wiggled to be put down. Mikuni obliged and Misono steps onto the stool Mahiru is on to watch the waffles cook. The pole in Tooru’s grasp disappears into wisps of black and Jeje rests a steadying hand on Mikuni’s back that his brother steps away from.

“Misono,” Mahiru asks curiously, “why’d you bite him?”

Misono thinks on it and then shrugs. “I was thirsty,” he says. “And he smells the best!”

Mahiru nods his head in return. “I get it,” he agrees, and then opens the waffle iron. Misono hands him a fork to help him get the waffle onto the plate, and they leave the adults to their discussions.

Now that he’s drank some blood, he’s very hungry for waffles.

——

Breakfast is a tense affair, or at least it was between Mikuni, Tooru, and Jeje. Mahiru and Misono paid no mind to it, talking about schooling and games and a million other things as they ate, whipped cream on their cheeks.

Tooru thinks, rather practically, that he should be thankful for that. If Mahiru had questioned things he doesn’t think that he would have been able to keep from telling the truth, and he’s sure Mikuni is the same with Misono. Well, maybe not. He’s seen how Mikuni works and has a rough understanding of his mindset; if it would cause Misono distress then Mikuni would keep it far away from him. Tooru is the exact opposite towards Mahiru; he thinks that it’s best for there to be no lies between them and if that means that the darker side of humanity is exposed, then so be it. He would protect Mahiru from it anyway, and he would rather his nephew know that the man with a smile will drag him into an alleyway and kill him than not.

But then, Mikuni and Misono have been sheltered their whole lives, even if Mikuni isn’t exactly the poster child for being unaware. Not to mention that Misono is a subclass now; he can kill a man with too much force, if Mikuni doesn’t get there first.

There’s blood on his couch. Tooru hates it. 

“Okay,” he says halfway through the meal, and Mikuni’s sharp gaze cuts to him. He holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not going to do anything. I just want to discuss things.”

“LIke what.”

“Like getting you a shower?” he tries. “You both have dried blood on you. Misono less so, but still. Besides, I know that isn’t a good sensation to have blood on you.” His eyes rest on the sleeve of Mikuni’s shirt and the brown splatter on his jacket, on the circle of black on his wrist. “So why don’t you two go wash up.”

Misono chews on a strawberry and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand; Mikuni wrinkles his nose at that, and Jeje nudges him gently, nodding to where he knows the bathroom is.

“Fine,” Mikuni grouches, sounding sixteen for once as he rubs the bandage on his neck. “Misono, come on, let’s get you washed.”

“I know how to wash myself,” Misono says indignantly, and Mikuni sighs, helplessly enamoured with the little boy sitting next to him.

“I know,” he agrees, and picks his brother up. “But you need to go get washed, you’re all sticky.”

“Yuck.”

“Yuck indeed,” says Mikuni gravely as he walks out of the room, Misono’s happy voice fading as he shuts the door behind him.

Tooru leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. Mahiru pats his hand, pushing away his plate and standing. “It’ll be okay,” he says, full of confidence that only a child could have. “Things work out.”

Tooru grins at his nephew. “That’s true,” he admits, and shoos him away. “Now go. I have to talk to Jeje here.”

Mahiru looks them over with a keen eye and nods once, firmly before scrambling off. Tooru watches him go then turns to Jeje, the line of his mouth grim. “So,” he begins. “What now. I got a phone call from Touma the other day and he is not happy. He’s sending _ Tsurugi.” _

Jeje flinches back. “That’s...not good.”

“No shit.” Tooru grimaces, drumming his fingers on the table. “He’s on his way here and something is going to happen. I just don’t know what.”

“Mikuni doesn’t even know how to summon his Lead,” murmurs Jeje, and Tooru knows for a _ fact _ that his fingers are twisting together under his long sleeves. “We have Misono here too…”

Tooru knows where he’s going with this and holds up a hand. “Nope, you aren’t leaving. It’s better for you to be here than out on the streets where he can catch you unawares.”

“But your nephew—“

“I can take Tsurugi down,” says Tooru firmly. “Touma may be grooming him to be a weapon but he’s not finished yet, and he won’t be for almost a decade. I can stop him.”

Truthfully, Tooru isn’t sure of that. He’s tried and tried to get the leader of Japan’s C3 branch to pay attention to what Touma is doing but he’s consistently ignored because of the results, no matter the collateral damage. It makes Tooru blindingly furious but he can’t do much about it.

“...Okay.” Jeje sighs, shoulder slumping. “Okay. You’ll take care of Tsurugi and I’ll take care of the others.”

Tooru nods, standing and picking up plates as he makes his way to the kitchen. “Why don’t you go get some blood so you’ll be more prepared.”

Jeje snorts, even as he does as he was told. “Mikuni seems to hate the idea of someone drinking his blood,” he says dryly, and Tooru has to admit that’s true. When Misono instinctively bit down, Mikuni looked as though he wanted to stab something, and if Misono wasn’t, well, _ Misono, _Tooru thinks that he actually would have.

The Alicein family is well known in C3 for having many subclass and an efficient system for getting those subclass blood. Tooru has no doubt that at some point Mikuni has gotten blood drawn from him, and the practice is highly common at his household. So, it’s mildly confusing to Tooru for Mikuni to be so against having his blood drank.

Still, though, his discomfort doesn’t matter much in the face of Tsurugi. He may be cunning and smart, but Mikuni has never had to fight for his life. Tsurugi has been killing since before he was ten. There’s a large difference between them, and if Tooru had his way he would rather have Mikuni never face Tsurugi.

Unfortunately, Tooru rarely ever gets his way, so he puts the dishes in the sink, rolls his shoulders, and summons his staff. Tsurugi is versatile most of all, even with his arms tucked against his sides, but Tooru has been training with this for years now and he has no intention of losing to Tsurugi.

There’s a shriek from the bathroom, a shout, and Misono comes racing out, a towel around his thin shoulders and soaking wet, soap suds clinging to his legs. Mikuni shouts something and comes darting after his little brother, Jeje following. Water is still clinging to them both as they try and fail to catch the little subclass, but Tooru has the experience of a parent and uncle and being a C3 member. He leans down and snatches Misono up with the ease of practice, Mahiru sticking his head out of his bedroom and squinting suspiciously. “What’s going on?” he calls, and Tooru only shakes his head, walking past Mikuni and Jeje to drop Misono in front of his nephew, weapon still in his grasp.

“Something scared Misono,” he explains. “He needs some clothes.”

Mahiru nods. “He can wear some of mine.”

Tooru smiles, ruffling his nephew’s hair before gently nudging them into the little room and closing the door once again. He turns around to look at the wet pair standing in his living room and raises one very judgmental eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault,” says Mikuni defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “Doubt Doubt— “

“Jeje,” Tooru interrupts. “You named him Jeje, Doubt Doubt is now his title. Use his name, it’s common etiquette.”

Mikuni opens his mouth to protest but Tooru gives him the Glare of Doom he gives the new recruits who want to talk back to him, and the kid closes his mouth and glares at the floor. Tooru rolls his eyes and waves at Jeje to say what really happened.

“I went into the bathroom to get some blood,” says Jeje with a sigh. “I told Mikuni what I was doing and Mikuni said okay after I said it was so I could protect them better. I bit Mikuni’s arm and Misono freaked.”

“Is this true?” Tooru asks Mikuni, and MIikuni nods his head, looking angry. Tooru bites back a groan, walking past him to the living room. “Okay, whatever. Just—let Jeje take some blood then go take a quick shower. I’ll leave you some clothes. Go.”

Mikuni nods even though it looks like it physically pains him, and Tooru nods back just as a knock comes from the front door. They all freeze, Tooru’s hand tightening around his staff before he turns to the two that stand in the hallway.

“Go to Mahiru’s room,” he orders. “If you need to, take them and leave. C3 is here.”

"I thought you said that they won’t bother with me!” Mikuni hisses, eyes wide and panicked. Tooru shrugs, his knuckles aching.

“So did I,” he says shortly. “But clearly _ not _ so you need to go and protect the kids. Let Jeje take blood and let him protect you. You don’t have a Lead yet so _ let him protect you.” _

Mikuni looks shaken, blood on his clothes and eyes wide, but Tooru can’t spare any sympathy right now. He looks at Jeje and says, “Take him. Protect them. I’ll go answer the door.”

Jeje nods stiffly, guns already in his hands as he shoves Mikuni backwards, always keeping his front to Tooru. Tooru takes a breath and slides his staff up his arm in a way that hides it from view and calls out, “Who is it?”

“You know who,” replies a voice, cold and amused, and Tooru sucks in a breath. Touma.

Fuck.

“I thought you were only sending Tsurugi.” He opens the door, looking his coworker in the eyes. Tsurugi peeks out from behind, eyes wide and dressed in his fighting clothes.

“I thought you’d like to see me too.” Touma nudges Tooru out of the way and walks in, eyeing the dishes in the sink and the way three more chairs were pushed back. “Having guests over?”

“Yes,” Tooru almost sneers, anger bubbling in his veins. “But I don’t see how that concerns you.”

Touma simply shrugs, boneless as a snake. “We saw Doubt Doubt heading in this direction with _ something _in his arms. Then we got word that his previous Eve was dead, and we all know you and Doubt Doubt were close—"

“He’s not here,” Tooru interrupts. “Why the hell would he even be here; I’m C3 and he’s no longer a part of it.”

Touma gives him a mocking smile. “Oh, like you haven’t kept in touch.”

“We haven’t.” And it’s true. They hadn't said a word to each other since Jeje had accepted the contract that tied him to the Alicein family. “Besides, it’s been seven years. How would he even know my address?”

Touma waves a hand, Tsurugi weaving his way around him and beginning to inspect the living room. Blood stains on the couch, a jacket thrown over the arm. Tooru doesn’t bristle, as much as he wants to, because Touma is like a shark in the water that’s tasted blood.

“Mind if we inspect the other rooms?” asks Touma, silky smooth, and Tooru knows that it’s not a question but he can’t refuse. If he did then it would mean he had something to hide and that’s not something he can afford, not with his nephew and the other’s in Mahiru’s room.

“Not at all,” he replies. “Just knock before you enter the last room on the left. My nephew is in there.”

“Of course,” Tsurugi demures, making his way to Mahiru’s room. Tooru slips his staff down, the end thudding against the floor a moment before Tsurugi knocks against the door and opens it. Touma turns at the sound, eyes glinting as bullets fire. Tooru slams his staff against Touma’s stomach, teeth grit as Tsurugi’s laugh echoes, as Mahiru and Misono scream.

“Jeje!” shouts Mikuni, and Tooru risks a glance. Jeje has his back to the kids, guns smoking, and Mikuni is standing right behind him, Misono clutched in his arms and Mahiru clinging to his legs.

Jeje shoots, but Tsurugi is too fast, too nimble, and he slams into him, knocking him out of the way and barging into the bedroom. Mikuni shouts, Misono screams, and Mahiru cries out, and Tooru lunges under Touma’s attack, rolling to his feet before throwing himself forward. Jeje is out for the count, jerking as electricity rolls through him, and Mikuni won’t be able to protect them—

Touma’s hand grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back, Tooru snarling the entire time.

“You really did betray us,” Touma sighs, sounding disappointed. “No matter. We’ll have the director deal with you.”

Something hits the back of Tooru’s head and everything goes dark.

—

Mikuni wakes up with cold metal around his wrists. He blinks tiredly at the door across from him, mind hazy as he tried to remember what happened.

His clothes are itchy and his arms hurt which means he was changed and that he’s been in this position for a while. He shifts, grimacing as he eyes the room around him. Blank white walls, stone floor, and a thick, solid door made of metal with a small window in the middle. His arms are chained to the floor behind him, his feet the same, and he’s the only one here.

Mikuni jerks forward, his heart suddenly pounding in his ears. Misono. Misono is gone, he’s not here, C3 has him, _ where is he. _

Mikuni leans back, thudding his head against the stone wall. Fuck. He fucked up.

He isn’t sure how long he sits there, thinking and planning, because never once does anyone pass by and never once does the light change. But it was long enough that he felt tired, long enough that despite the discomfort in his muscles and limbs he found his eyes sliding shut.

Something hits the door just as pain hits, like a heart attack, and Mikuni goes limp, bile rising in his throat. A face peeks in, all wide eyes and pale hair, and Mikuni narrows his eyes at them.

“You’ve been separated for more than twelve hours,” they observe. Mikuni blinks at them. “This is really interesting.”

“Who are you,” Mikuni growls out, his voice sounding rough.

They grin at him, a straw trapped between their lips. “I’m Johannes,” they chirp. “A scientist.”

Mikuni groans, stomach rolling. “What does that have to do with you being here?”

They hum. “Well,” they say, drawing out the l. “I’m here to see how you react. It’s not often I get to see this.” They lean forward, pressing their face against the bars. “How are you feeling? Short of breath? Aching?”

“I feel _ pissed,” _Mikuni snaps, straining forward.

Johannes hums. “A natural human response to your situation. Any reason why? Is it because of your Servamp?”

Jeje. Like hell. Mikuni’s concerned about Misono.

“Where’s my brother?” he demands. “What have you done to him? Also are you a man?”

“I _ am _ a man!” says Johannes, delighted. “And is your brother the one with brown hair? Perhaps purple. Oh, I’ll just tell you about both!” He grins. “The purple one is being held in a cell on the...twentieth floor. Last I heard he was crying. They won’t let me look at him though.” He pouts. “But a subclass child is always so _ interesting—“ _

Mikuni keeps silent, taking a breath and asking, as though Misono means nothing to him, “And the other one?”

Johannes grins. “Ah, so _ he’s _your brother. Well, he’s on the tenth floor. Shuuhei and Tinker are keeping him company while Tooru is being interrogated.”

“And Doubt Doubt?”

He makes a noise of disinterest. “He’s getting played with by Touma. I’m not allowed near.”

Mikuni arranges his thoughts. Keeps his breathing steady. And says, “Want to see a Servamp?”

Johannes blinks at him. “You want me to help you escape,” he replies, a manic light sparking in his eyes.

“I do,” Mikuni agrees, pretending to get comfortable and acting uninterested. “But honestly I don’t need your help.”

Johannes raises an eyebrow, looking curious as he leans further in, the bars pressing against his cheeks. “Really now?”

Mikuni grins. “Nope.”

Johannes stews on this for a moment, pensive, before rocking back and muttering something Mikuni couldn't hear. Then he grins, says, “Alright. Impress me and maybe I’ll help.”

Mikuni can accept that.

“Not a problem,” he replies with a smirk. “I guess you’ll be helping.”

Johannes laughs even as he walks away, his voice echoing back. “We’ll see about _ that.” _

—

Mahiru, to put it mildly, is about to throw the biggest tantrum. The girl named Tinker put a tablet in front of him so he could play games but Mahiru doesn’t _ want _ to play games. He wants to see his uncle and he wants to know if Misono is okay. Jeje and Mikuni got knocked out before Mahiru did, but Misono was still awake when everything went dark. Nobody will tell him what is happening and Mahiru _ hates _ it. He’s ready to start screaming and throwing things and just acting like he’s three. He’ll do it. Watch him. He’s been here for over three hours and he’s sick of it.

He taps at the screen, scowling when a panda pops up and waves at him for doing a good job. He would like this game at any other time but right now he’s angry. Shuuhei is watching something on his computer as Tinker messes with some rubber bands, and Mahiru glances over. Shuuhei seems to be like a teacher; may he’ll know something.

The screen is split into nine little boxes. On five there’s nothing but hallways, which is _ boring, _so Mahiru looks at the other ones. Mikuni is sitting against a wall, Jeje is on a table, Uncle Tooru is talking to someone and looks like he’s angry, and Misono—

Mahiru’s eyes widen. Misono is with someone who is leaning over him, something sharp in their hand. What are they doing?!

He looks at the two people watching him. They work with the person who hurt Misono and Mikuni and Uncle Tooru and Jeje. Shuuhei is watching the screen as Misono starts to tear up, and Mahiru makes a decision. They don’t see anything wrong with what’s happening but Mahiru _ does. _And he may only be a kid, but his uncle always told him that if no one else is doing something someone must step forward.

Uncle Tooru did that for Mahiru when his life fell apart. It’s time for Mahiru to do the same for Misono.

Mind made up, he looks at the room on the bottom of Misono’s part of the screen before clicking the home button on the tablet and pressing YouTube. He knows an hour long video that is meant for kids—Koyuki’s mom puts it on sometimes for when he comes over in case he wants to watch it—and he’s been quiet the entire time.

He types in the name, presses on it, and waits for the ad to play before setting the tablet down on the cushion, scooting to the edge and quietly dropping down. His mom used to be really tired in the mornings so Mahiru made sure to learn how to be silent. He never thought he would be using it for this, though.

He creeps out the door and keeps to the walls, eyes peeled for some type of map. Misono is on level twenty, room seventy-eight. He can’t forget that.

He makes his way down the hallway, feeling sort of like a spy, when he sees a man with black hair and a scarf step out of an elevator one door down. He’s not paying attention, talking to someone on the phone, so Mahiru darts forward, slipping past the doors one second before they close.

He looks up at the buttons, eyes narrowed. There’s a lot, all the way down to fifty, but Mahiru doesn’t care about that. What he cares about is level twenty. Luckily it’s within his reach, so he stands on his tip toes and firmly slams his finger on it. The elevator hums under his feet, and Mahiru grabs the railing with his hand, face grim. Uncle Tooru was on level thirty, but there’s no time to get him. Mahiru will have to do this on his own.

The elevator jerks to a stop, the doors open, and Mahiru takes a breath. He needs to be brave like the duck from the storybook at school. He can’t back down.

He takes a step out and looks around. Doors that are numbered sixty or below are on the right. Which means that room seventy-eight is on the left.

Mahiru goes left. Even rooms are on the right and odd rooms are on the left, so Misono is on the right.

Uncle Tooru always told him that if he’s scared, he can break it down. Do things one at a time.

Mahiru is more scared than he’s ever been. But Misono needs him so he’s doing things one at a time.

He reaches room seventy-eight. Misono is crying. The light is on. Mahiru opens the door.

Misono sits up from where he’s curled into a ball on the table, eyes red and sniffing miserably. Mahiru smiles at him, opening his arms as he takes two steps forward. Misono cries out, scrambling down from the table and rushing forward, nearly making Mahiru fall over, but Misono barely weighs anything at all so he manages to stay upright.

“It’s okay,” he says into Misono’s hair. “It’s okay.” Misono is bleeding—he can feel it from where it’s seeping into his clothes, but everything is going to be fine. Mahiru will go to Uncle Tooru and he’ll make everything okay.

“I’m hungry,” Misono whimpers, and Mahiru somehow knows that he wants blood. He did bite Mikuni earlier when he was hungry.

He pulls back and inclines his neck. “Come on,” he says, and Misono hesitates, gaze flickering everywhere but Mahiru. His pupils are like cats, all thin and long. “It’s ok.”

Misono nods his head shakily before standing on his tip toes and pressing his lips against Mahiru’s neck. He bites down.

Mahiru’s mouth opens in a silent scream, body stiffening as Misono locks his teeth in and just—drinks.

It doesn’t go on for long, maybe fifteen seconds; when Misono pulls back, though, after licking his neck to stop the blood flow, he feels dizzy. Misono fidgets, looking apologetic, but his face is not as pale and he’s standing straighter. Mahiru presses a hand against his neck, smiles, and says, “Let’s go. Uncle Tooru is close.”

“Mikuni?”

_ “I _ don’t know,” Mahiru admits, “but Uncle Tooru will.”

Misono thinks on that for a minute before nodding. “Okay,” he says, just as the ground shakes. They look around, alarmed, and Misono picks Mahiru up before running out the door.

“What was that?” Mahiru shouts as the walls start to crack.

“I don’t know!” Misono yells back, sounding frantic. “But I think it’s something Mikuni did!”

“What did he _ do?” _

“I don’t know!”

A muffled boom and the ceiling shakes, looking ready to crumble. Mahiru chances a sharp glance up and squeaks. Misono skids to a stop in front of the elevator, eyeing the ceiling with some nervousness. “I...think it would be best if we stayed out of the elevator,” he says shakily, and Mahiru narrows his eyes.

“...Yeah,” he agrees. “Let's try and find some stairs. Buildings _ always _ have stairs.”

Misono starts to nod when the building jerks, causing him to fall and drop Mahiru, who whines as his neck starts to bleed again. Misono’s eyes flicker towards the blood staining the collar of Mahiru’s shirt and he licks his lips before shaking his head. “Sorry,” he murmurs, leaning down, and Mahiru gives him a little nod.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not—“

The ceiling begins to cave in and in a flash Misono is over him, arms braced and mouth set as the rubble falls. Mahiru screams and Misono starts to cry as stone after stone hit his back, all heavy and big and too much for him as they’re buried. Misono collapses on top of him, breathing faint.

Bare feet hit the ground, something metal shifts, and a voice calls out, familiar and panicked, “Misono? Misono, where are you?”

Mahiru shifts under his friend, reaching an arm out for the little hole created by two big pieces of stone landing wrong. “In here!” he calls out, fingers straining to the light. “Misono’s hurt!”

And immediately: “Jeje! Lift the wreckage and _ get them out.” _

A hum and black boots block out the white. Jeje grunts as three big booms make Mahiru’s ears ring. Soon enough the weight is lifted and Mahiru squints at the two of them, mouth dry. Mikuni crouches and lifts Misono into his arms, nodding at Jeje who picks up Mahiru right after. Mahiru swallows painfully when he sees the way Misono is so still, so limp. Jeje looks down at him, adjusts his hold, and then fingers pinch his neck. Everything goes dark.

—

Misono is hurt. He’s hurt _ again _ and Mikuni was too late. He’s just like he was the night before, quiet and like a damnation, like a curse, and Mikuni closes his eyes. Misono was hurt while Mikuni was setting up bombs, and _ yes, _he knew it was important but—

But Misono was crushed by the destruction he caused, and it’s his fault.

He grips Misono closer, feeling like he’s dying. Misono can’t die, not like this. He’s still breathing—an involuntary reaction caused by his brain— but it’s a confirmation that Misono is alive despite the lack of pulse all the same.

Mikuni curls in on himself as another timer hits zero. Jeje stays steady, Mahiru asleep, but Mikuni stumbles, legs wavering beneath him as his heat thumps in his chest, faster than it should.

Misono doesn’t stir.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck. Okay. We have the boys, we need to _ leave.” _

“I agree,” comes a voice, dress shoes tapping against the floor. “But you know I can’t let that happen.”

Mikuni whirls around, teeth bared in a snarl as a man comes closer, holding Tooru by the collar as he walks along. Tooru is silent, body loose, and Mikuni knows with a cold certainty that he’s either dead or unconscious.

Tooru is out of the game, Mikuni doesn’t have a Lead, and Jeje is his only defender.

Frost creeps down his spine even as he straightens. “Touma,” he says, because it’s the only explanation. Touma smiles, slow and cold.

“Speaking.” He drops Tooru, and his head cracks against the ground. “And you’re Mikuni.”

“What do you want.”

“I want your Servamp. I want you here. I want your brother.”

Misono. He wants _ Misono. _

“Not happening,” Mikuni retorts, baring his teeth. “I’m afraid that you’re going to have to search for another subclass.” His eyes don’t leave Touma as he snaps, “Jeje.”

Jeje darts forward, Mahiru set down against the wall, and Touma doesn’t even falter, dodging without a sound before kicking out and causing Jeje to slams into debris.

“Weak,” Touma says in disgust. “You used to be so strong.”

Jeje hasn’t had a lot of blood. Jeje doesn’t have a useful Eve.

Jeje is out for the count because of a black rope that’s wrapped around him and won’t let go no matter how much he struggles.

Mikuni backs up, heart pounding as he watches Touma stalk closer. Misono is vulnerable and so is he.

Purple hair brushes against his cheek. Misono shifts in his arms, snuggling closer, and Mikuni makes himself breathe. No. No, he won’t let Touma get Misono. He won’t let him get any of them.

Something burns at his wrist. His fingers wrap around something smooth.

Mikuni says the first words that come to mind as he throws it.

“My Fair Lady!”

The noose wraps itself around Touma’s throat and jerks towards the ground, making Touma choke. Mikuni doesn’t waste any time because he _ knows _ this is only temporary, and rushes past him, tearing at the rope holding Jeje down. He shoves Misono into his Servamps arms, gasps out, “Grab them and _ go,” _ before he’s turning back around and darting towards Touma, grabbing the rope—Lead, it must be his Lead—as he slides to the floor. The rope pulls with him, Touma falling to the ground, and Mikuni doesn’t let up, doesn’t give one inch. Jeje’s already gone, having gathered Tooru and Mahiru the moment he was free, and Mikuni is alone, choking a man with a weapon he didn’t even know he had.

Touma snarls at him even as he wheezes, face going red, then purple, and Mikuni pulls and pulls, willing his Lead to tighten even more. His eyes are wide and his mind is blank, and all Mikuni can think of is Misono lying in a pool of his own blood, of Misono waking up and asking where he is and— 

And killing another person seems rather small in comparison to that.

Touma’s body goes flat as his neck lets out a sickening crack, and Mikuni lets out a sob even as he continues. He can't afford to let him live. He knows this man’s type; if he lives then he’ll come after them, stronger than before, and this was just a stroke of luck. He can’t let him live.

Something shatters inside him and Mikuni stops pulling. Let his Lead dissipate. Pulls his knees to his chest and tries not to think. It’s hard. His brain is always going and it's hard but he has another life on his hands, more blood on his hands, and he can’t breathe beyond that.

Black flutters in front of him as Jeje lands, and his Servamp reaches out.

“Mikuni,” Jeje murmurs, and he sounds so soft and kind. “Let’s leave.”

And Mikuni—

Mikuni wants to. He wants to go home. He wants the familiar sight of his bedroom, wants his brother begging for a chess match. He wants to leave.

He nods, feeling like he’s five years old and crying for his grandfather’s Servamp, feeling exhausted and weak and vulnerable. The bond that keeps them together hums at his emotions and Jeje picks him up like he’s something fragile, like he’s glass. Mikuni curls up as Jeje takes a step backwards. There’s a low roaring in his ears, blocking everything out, but he feels it when Jeje breaks Touma’s back under his foot, grinding the bone into dust under his heel for precisely two seconds and moving on. Mikuni closes his eyes and lets Jeje take him away.

—

Mahiru wakes up to Misono clambering over him, giggling. He smiles and lays still until Misono is sitting on his legs; then he bursts into motion, wrapping his arms around the little boy and squeezing tight, grinning as Misono squeals.

“Mahiru!” Misono shouts. “Let go!”

“But I have a little monster on my bed!”

The door opens and Mikuni stands there, exasperated and with a toothbrush in his mouth. He’s still dressed in his pajamas, hair unbrushed with Jeje curled around his shoulders. “What’s going on?” he asks, rubbing at his eyes, Jeje licking his cheek. Mahiru wrinkles his nose at the subtle kiss; ever since Misono had enough and made them talk, Mikuni and Jeje have been nothing short of disgusting. Not as bad as Jeje and Uncle Tooru, of course, because as soon as Uncle Tooru sees Jeje he's kissing him, and _that _is truly horrifying.

“Mahiru’s being mean!” Misono whines, slipping off the bed and running up to his brother.

“No, I’m not!” Mahiru retorts immediately. “Don’t listen to him—“

Mikuni huffs a laugh, picking Misono up and setting him on his hip. “It’s fine,” he says dismissively. “Now get up; Johannes is coming by later to work with me, and you need to get to school, mr. high schooler.”

Mahiru nods, getting out from under the covers and trotting past Mikuni to get to the bathroom. “Don’t let Misono near the oven!” he calls over his shoulder, and laughs at Misono’s offended cry.

“I know,” Mikuni replies, telling Misono not to throw a fit as he walks away. Mahiru chuckles under his breath as he turns on the faucet for the sink.

Once Uncle Tooru decided he was old enough, he had to leave. He had delayed going on trips for too long, and his boss was getting angry. Mahiru knew that, if Mikuni and Misono and Jeje weren’t here, then he would be incredibly lonely. But—and here’s the thing that always makes him smile—he’s not. He’s never lonely. Someone is always there, and—he thinks that’s really nice.

He hums thoughtfully. Misono has been begging for a cat lately, and his birthday is coming up; maybe he could convince Mikuni. A black cat sounds good.

It's a thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh yeah i basically said fuck the timeline and did whatever i wanted, which is 100% the mood of every single fic writer ever.
> 
> (Touma makes for such an easy plot device hehehehe...)
> 
> Art: https://lunaeclipsedoesart.tumblr.com/post/187373942992/my-collab-with-pomfry-for-the-slevents-i-did


End file.
